Gilbert was late coming home from his weekly golf game.
As he dragged himself wearily through the door, his worried Elaine met him.
“Honey,” she said, “How was your game? Why are you so late?”
“Well,” replied Gilbert, “this had to be the worst, hardest game of my life. Jack died out there on the golf course. Just had a heart attack at the second hole and then died.”
“Oh, no!” cried Elaine. “How awful for you! He was your best friend! No wonder you are late…..”
“Yes, the ordeal really wore me out,” he said, “the whole rest of the game it was: hit the ball, drag Jack, hit the ball, drag Jack….”